


ending and beginning

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, M/M, Murder, Unsafe Sex, lots of other unsafe things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughts run through his mind, again and again. <i>I just killed someone. I just killed someone and I’m getting off on it. A man is dead on the floor and I’m kissing someone.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>It’s good to be alive.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	ending and beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago for a saso prompt and [my wife](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/iwaizumemes) wanted me to post it so she could post [hers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4982710/chapters/11445028), which was like a remix of mine.
> 
> So make sure you read hers after mine.
> 
> Also her other fics, because damn.

Takahiro doesn’t drop the knife when the man falls, nor does he keep it in a vice. It’s comfortable in his hand; it weighs less than a full cup of coffee. Blood drips from the slippery blade onto the floor, though the small droplets that spatter the tile won’t reach the pool spreading from his victim for a while. His heart is forcing his own blood through his veins, and he’s got a head rush as if he’d been smoking too fast, or holding his breath. Maybe he was, but not out of fear—out of excitement; breathing comes second to lust. He wants to stand here until the blood leaking from the body and crawling across the linoleum soaks through the soles of his shoes.

Suga snickers behind him, and he hears his footsteps as he comes closer. He feels Suga’s hands on his sides, pushing around to run over his stomach, his chin on his shoulder, his chest pressed up against Takahiro’s back. Takahiro leans back.

“How do you feel?” Suga asks, softly, and Takahiro knows his eyes are on the man on the floor, narrowed, watching the last vestiges of life leak out of him.

Takahiro watches too, the last subtle twitch to his fingers. He listens to the final rasp of breath. Then silence. A painting with flowing red lines. “Amazing,” he says softly. “Just like you said.”

Suga hums, and he feels the vibrations in his shoulder. His hands move down his stomach, fingertips crossing the edge of his t-shirt, coming together over his crotch. “Hmm, I guess you did like it,” Suga says with amusement. Takahiro hadn’t even noticed he was half hard. God, he’s really sick.

Suga rolls his hips against him.

Oh. At least he’ll have company in hell.

“Suga,” he breathes out.

“Put the knife down.”

It’s a good suggestion, one which he takes, practically throwing it across the table. He turns around and grabs Suga, kissing him fiercely. Thoughts run through his mind, again and again. _I just killed someone. I just killed someone and I’m getting off on it. A man is dead on the floor and I’m kissing someone._

_It’s good to be alive._

Suga smiles even as he kisses, matching Takahiro’s fervency without his desperation, but then he’s done this before and Takahiro hasn’t. Takahiro already wants more, more than he can get right here, with no one else to jab a knife into, no one else’s throat to curl his hands around and squeeze until all the air is gone from them and a little bit more.

He pulls Suga’s hips hard against him and grinds into them, moaning with his eyes pinched shut. When Suga bites his lip hard enough that it bleeds into his mouth, and the taste of it passes between them, it’s like an electric shock that starts at his tongue and travels instantly to his core. “Suga,” he pants out again, pressing himself closer to the other man.

“You sound like you want something,” he mumbles back, sounding amused as Takahiro latches onto his neck, biting and sucking without any reservations.

“I want you,” he growls back, feeling completely and totally animalistic, and probably sounding that way too.

Suga is quiet for a moment, hands loosely draped across Takahiro’s shoulders. “Get on the floor,” he says finally.

Takahiro pauses, drawing in a shaky breath. He drops to the ground, looking up at Suga, expecting him to follow. Suga stands over him, smiling. Takahiro watches the bruise spreading out over his neck and swallows. He wants more, _more_ , needs to feel all of this, whatever this is, until the peak of it pushes him over into something new. Life after death, in the intransitive sense.

Suga still stands above him. He slides his hands into his pockets and tilts his head to the side, managing to look composed and beautiful even with the bulge in his pants. “Touch yourself for me.”

Takahiro looks at him, feeling dizzy with need. “Suga, please—”

In answer, Suga steps forward and presses his shoe down hard between Takahiro’s legs. He groans, moving towards the pressure, even though it’s rough and meant to hurt him. His head swims, but he doesn’t try to push Suga off. “I’ll come down there when I feel like it.” Takahiro nods quickly, and Suga gives one more downward shove before he steps back.

Takahiro opens up his pants and pushes down his underwear, exposing himself to the stale air, thick with the scent of blood and death. He locks eyes with Suga as he works his hand over himself, aware of the moans floating out of his mouth, mixed with the sound of his dick smacking against his hand. It’s shameful, he’s disgusting. It’s wonderful and he loves it.

“You look like you’re having some trouble,” Suga muses. “Maybe you should get creative.”

What he means—of course. He has blood on his mind and not very much else. He lets go of his cock and moves his hand behind him. The puddle has spread by now, very close to him, and it’s still warm when his fingers touch it. He presses his palm firmly into the mess before pulling it back and taking his dick in his hand once, not daring to break away from Suga’s eyes to look at the blood now coating him. He’s seeing enough red anyway, and Suga can help him see more.

The drops left on the floor by the knife have now been enveloped by the larger mass of blood, and when Suga does finally kneel over him, the knees of his jeans are instantly soaked. He places a hand in it to steady himself, and thinks nothing of it when he lifts the same hand to cradle Takahiro’s cheek; a large, red mark blossoms on his face like he’s been skinned. Suga nudges his hand away and pumps him a few more times, and Takahiro gasps and clutches at his sweater, calling his name.

Suga kisses him gently on the forehead. “You did well, Takahiro.”

Takahiro wraps an arm around him and pulls them both down. The print underneath them is a blossoming red angel, trapped on earth.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [It Begins with an End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982710) by [iwaizumemes (skytramp)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/iwaizumemes)




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